


The Statue

by bagma



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagma/pseuds/bagma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Frodo and Sam, visiting Rivendell gardens, find themselves in presence of an intriguing statue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Statue

“And this one, Frodo, do you think she was a queen?” Sam asked, looking up at the impressive form of the statue towering above him with a mixture of reverence and uneasiness. 

Rivendell halls, rooms and gardens were densely populated by countless examples of the finest elvish statuary, and he was well aware that after three weeks spent exploring the Last Homely House he should have become accustomed to meeting them everywhere, but he was still intimidated by their silent and unyielding presence. The only works remotely resembling statues one could see in the Shire were scarecrows, and although they were carefully crafted and rather pretty in their ragged and colourful extravagance, the effect they produced on the passers-by was not exactly the same.

This statue in particular looked especially unforgiving, Sam thought, noting the serene but austere expression the sculptor had given the woman's perfect face. She was made in some smooth dove-grey stone unknown to Sam, and the veil her head and shoulders were draped with was so skilfully sculpted that he could see the pale light of the autumn sun shining through the thin layer of stone; her gaze was fixed on an invisible point well above the hobbits' heads, and she had an air of aloofness and indifference about her that Sam found very intriguing and a little intimidating. But what puzzled him the most was that the mysterious woman's naked feet were surrounded by an odd array of fruits, jewels, books and weapons, all of them exquisitely chiselled and made of colourful marble that contrasted strongly with the plain grey of the statue itself.

Frodo swept away the leaves that covered the pedestal and revealed a barely legible inscription carved on a bronze plaque. He started tracing the sinuous carving with the tip of his fingers, dislodging flecks of moss and spelling out the elvish letters in a low voice. Sam waited patiently, admiring both Frodo's ability to read Elvish and the elegant shape of his hand. Sam's gaze travelled slowly upwards, noticing with satisfaction that his master's wrists and forearms had finally lost their alarming frailty, and that his face looked slightly rounder. Frodo's cheeks were a little pink, and his mouth was nearly as full and tempting as it has been before the hobbits began their trying journey.

While Sam was losing himself in dreamy contemplation, Frodo finished deciphering the inscription. He straightened up and flashed a broad grin at Sam.

“Well, you were wrong, Sam. She's not a queen, she's an allegory. The allegory of Temperance, to be precise,” he said, rubbing his hands on his trousers to clean the worst of the moss stains.

The explanation left Sam at a loss for words. He did not have the slightest idea of what an allegory was, and he was not sure about this Temperance person either. Maybe her name had something to do with temper, he supposed, although the woman's calm expression tended to contradict that hypothesis. Frodo stared at him, clearly surprised by Sam's uncharacteristic lack of reaction, and Sam felt his cheeks grow hot.

“Really?” he said at last. He hoped his casual tone of voice would give Frodo the feeling that Sam was satisfied with the explanation and not really interested in discovering more about the statue's identity, but Frodo proved to have recovered all his usual perspicacity along with his health, and he did not let himself be taken in by Sam's unconvincing nonchalance. 

“Sam, you're flushing, and you have the distraught expression you got when you don't understand something!” Frodo said teasingly, and Sam's blush deepened. He shifted uneasily from one foot to another and let out an embarrassed snort.

“You know me too well, me dear... All right, I admit, I don't know what allegory and Temperance are... But I'm sure you'll be glad to enlighten me!” he exclaimed, a little more harshly than he intended to, then winced inwardly at the unexpected aggressiveness of his own voice. 

Frodo looked thoughtfully at Sam for a moment, a slight frown furrowing his brow, then he stroked Sam's hot cheek with the back of his cool fingers.

“You know I don't mind explaining things to you, my Sam, don't you? I've already told you, you've spent enough time explaining the arcane details of gardening to me, explaining a couple of words to you is the least I can do... There's no need to feel embarrassed,” he said softly. Sam gave a tiny nod of agreement, then took Frodo's hand in his own and kissed it apologetically.

“You're right, of course... I don't know what came over me. We aren't in the Shire any more, and I've been feeling a little out of my depth with all those mighty Elves and Men and Magicians all around, I reckon. There's a lot of things I don't understand here.”

“You're not alone in feeling a bit overwhelmed by this place, Sam, I can assure you,” Frodo answered feelingly, squeezing Sam's fingers. “Truth to tell, I've often been feeling very small and rather out of place myself, and I know I'm not the only one. Do you remember Boromir's face when Elrond showed us the arms room?” The tall Man had looked almost comically dazed as his eyes kept wandering around the cavernous room, and Sam could not help chuckling at the memory.

“So, where were we?” Frodo went on briskly. “Ah, yes, allegory and Temperance... Well, an allegory is a work of art that uses characters to represent qualities or abstract ideas, like patience, justice, courage and the like. As for Temperance, it's a virtue, like restraint, if you want: the contrary of gluttony or lust, the ability of resisting in overindulging in good things. Do you understand?” Sam nodded slowly, frowning in thought as he considered the concept.

“I think I do, but are you sure that Temperance's really a quality?” he blurted out after a moment of reflective silence. Frodo raised his eyebrows in surprise and gave him a puzzled look that urged Sam to explain himself further.

“I mean, that sounds awfully stuffy, if you take my meaning. It's as though you'd need to give up enjoying a good meal or a good shag to achieve it, and I'm not sure I'd like that. It's no wonder I've never heard the word in the Shire before! That doesn't sound like something hobbits would find appealing, in my opinion. I can't imagine parents calling their daughter Temperance, for example... I know of a couple of Patiences, and one of my cousins is called Prudence, but everybody calls her Prue for short, not that she deserves the name in the first place, and...” Frodo's sudden burst of laughter interrupted Sam's convoluted explanations.

“When you put it like that, it's true that Temperance sounds more like an Elvish virtue than anything else. I believe the purpose of being temperate is to avoid unhealthy and immoral excesses, but I agree with you, that's not something we hobbits are very good at, at least where food is concerned. On the other hand, I've never seen an Elf wallowing in gluttony. Can you imagine Lord Elrond having an attack of indigestion?” he said, his eyes shining with mirth.

It was Sam's turn to laugh. His unquenchable admiration for Elves had not suffered any weakening during his stay in Rivendell, quite the contrary, but even the most pleasant looked so perfect, so unreachable sometimes that he had to admit it felt good to indulge in a little harmless joking once in a while. As Mr. Pippin used to say, hobbits can't live long on the heights, and it was obvious that he was not talking about architecture.

“That's about as likely as that statue itself being sick, if you ask me. And now that I'm thinking about it, I've never seen a randy Elf either... they're restrained both at table and in bed, I'm reckon. I'm afraid we won't find an allegory of Lust in Rivendell gardens any time soon. What a shame! The Elves are so talented, I'm sure the statue would've been gorgeous,” Sam said with animation, waving his arms around as he outlined the shape of the imaginary sculpture in the air. 

Frodo had been listening to Sam's speech with a little smile and watching him with a gleam in his eyes that bordered on greediness. When Sam paused to catch his breath, Frodo wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and pressed the whole length of his body against him.

“Mmm, I love it when you talk about Lust, my Sam,” he breathed, his lips brushing Sam's, and Sam lost his train of thought. How could he keep thinking about allegories and statues when he had a very real hobbit in his arms, a hobbit who would surely have inspired an Elf sculptor to venture forth into some unknown territory and try to capture Lust in stone? Frodo felt wonderful against him, all warm skin and firm muscles under the thick fabric of his clothes, and Sam gave himself up to the need to eliminate the only remaining distance between them. After glancing around quickly, he raised his hands, slipped his fingers into Frodo's hair and brought their mouths together.

The kiss was gentle at first, an almost timid touch of lips, soft and tender but filled with anticipation; then Sam felt Frodo's tongue slid into his mouth, and the fact that they were kissing in Rivendell gardens, presenting themselves for all to see, paled to insignificance. It was not as though there was a lot of Elves passing through here anyway, Sam thought as he deepened the kiss; it appeared that the statue had been relegated to a rather remote and secluded spot, away from the main buildings. Who knew, maybe the Elves themselves were not to keen on being reminded of the existence of Temperance too often?

As for Sam, nothing could have be farther from his thoughts than such esoteric and impractical virtue. Frodo had curled his fingers around Sam's nape and was standing on his toes, one leg wrapped around Sam's knee as though he was trying to climb him like a tree. They kept on kissing until they were both out of breath and Sam was unable to feel anything but the urgent need to get Frodo out of his clothes, so that he could give the insistent erection rubbing against his own thigh his undivided attention. 

“Frodo, love...” he panted, breaking the kiss, “I think we need to came back to your bedroom as soon as possible... oh!” Nimble fingers snaked their way into his breeches and started attacking his buttons, and he gave an undignified squeak.

“What... What are you doing?” he stammered, startled and a little shocked, but unable to stop his hips from bucking eagerly toward the warmth of Frodo's hand. Frodo laughed. He sounded a little out of breath himself.

“Really, Sam, do you need to ask?”

“But... But... We can't do it here in the open!”

“Why not? It looks like the place's been deserted for years, and it's pretty unlikely that we'll be interrupted. Besides, you're the one who was bemoaning the lack of statues representing Lust in Rivendell gardens. There's no reason why we shouldn't provide a little temporary allegory of our own, don't you think?” Frodo said, chuckling.

His tone was light, but desire made his voice huskier than usual. His cheeks were flushed, he was biting his lower lip which looked as red and plump as a ripe cherry, and his hand was dizzyingly busy. Even if Temperance herself had climbed down from her pedestal to give them a lecture on virtues and sins, Sam would not have been able to resist him. Surrendering, he reached down to help Frodo with the last of his buttons. 

“Elves for Temperance, hobbits for Lust... I reckon it's appropriate,” he commented, then gasped as Frodo's hand reached its goal, thus putting an end to the conversation and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Lust enacted by hobbits, though not as noble and dignified as the elvish Temperance, was nevertheless a very good subject for a statue.


End file.
